


Accidental Acquisition of a Transactional Relationship

by aw_writing_no



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Abed Nadir x Britta Perry friendship, Abed and Britta are probably my favorite part of this, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Director Abed Nadir, F/F, M/M, Sugar Baby Troy Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29947824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aw_writing_no/pseuds/aw_writing_no
Summary: Abed had no idea where to start with dating apps.He considered downloading Tinder or Grindr, but didn’t like the idea of everyone within a five mile radius being able to see his profile. The OKCupid color scheme gave him a tension headache within two minutes of scrolling, and eHarmony seemed too old-fashioned for what he was looking for. He browsed through the app store before clicking on Discretion.“Discreet dates for the discerning gentle(wo)man,” Abed read aloud. He wasn’t sure if he fell into the category of discerning gentlemen, but he appreciated the heavy-handed attempt at gender equality. At any rate, the application boasted an algorithm to sort dates into complementary categories, which seemed more his speed than Tinder’s random swiping.ORThe Accidental Sugar Daddy!Abed AU that's been lurking in my WIP folder for months.
Relationships: Frankie Dart/Britta Perry, Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	Accidental Acquisition of a Transactional Relationship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [biggod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggod/gifts).



“You’re officially not allowed to hang out with my girlfriend ever again.”

“She was my friend first,” Abed grumbled into the phone. He sat up and swiped at his eyes, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. “Also, good morning, Frankie. Why are you banning me from hanging out with Britta? It’s not even 8 AM.”

“Good morning, Abed.” Frankie’s voice was her trademark mix of exasperated and fond. “I’m assuming you haven’t seen that you’re trending on Twitter.”

“Did you miss the part where it’s not even 8 AM?” Abed pulled out his laptop and logged into Twitter. #abednadir and #nadirsmysteryblonde were two of the top four trending tags. He clicked on the mystery blonde link and immediately burst out laughing.

“Abed, it’s not funny!” Frankie chided. 

“Shh I’m reading.”

**Sleeping her way to the top? Pouty blonde gets handsy with Abed Nadir over brunch.**

_ Notoriously private sci-fi writer and director Abed Nadir was spotted yesterday eating pancakes and cozying up with a mystery woman. The unknown actress, who appears as an uncredited extra in several of Nadir’s films, spent most of the meal with her head on Nadir’s shoulder while he hand-fed her a vegan burrito. Seems pretty intimate, right? Looks like this background character is gunning for the role of leading lady! _

“I’m a big fan of the photo where she’s licking hashbrown grease off my finger,” Abed said. 

Frankie sighed. “Why are you guys like this?”

“You knew what you were getting into when you started seeing Britta,” Abed said, shrugging even though he knew Frankie couldn’t see. “Britta and I have clearly established physical boundaries. Meaning that we have clearly established there are no physical boundaries.”

“I know, and I would never come between you and your nap buddy. But…”

“But?”

“But I was at that brunch too! What kind of heteronormative bullshit world do we live in that everyone assumes she’s with you?”

“It could be the heteronormativity,” Abed said, “or it could be that she was sleeping on me while you had an iPad, a laptop, and two phones on your side of the table, and you didn’t even touch your eggs.”

“I was strategizing for your premier! It was a working brunch!”

“That you brought your hungover girlfriend to.” 

“Whatever, she’s  _ your _ best friend,” Frankie muttered. 

“So did you wake me up just because you were jealous that the press thinks Britta is with me, not you?” Abed asked, stifling a yawn. “Because I don’t really see a problem here. Britta and I got papped doing what we do almost every weekend.”

“That’s the problem,” Frankie said. “There’s already a Tumblr blog devoted to searching through old pictures of you and finding out the identity of the ‘mystery blonde.’”

“That was fast.”

“Abed, how are we going to spin this?”

Abed groaned. “Again, spin what? Literally all they said is that I was cuddling with a blonde at brunch, and I was.”

“Are we going to explain who Britta is? Ask for the press to respect your privacy?”

“We could explain she’s dating you?”

“You know I’m not ready for that,” Frankie said. Abed cringed for a moment. He knew that while Frankie didn’t hide Britta, and was casually out in LA, publicizing her relationship on the internet was not something she was prepared for. Regardless of how annoyed she was at the heteronormative bullshit society they lived in.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Can we please figure it out though?”

“Don’t worry, I’m on it.” Abed hung up before Frankie could protest. He saved his favorite photo, the one where Britta was half asleep on his shoulder, her curls obscuring most of her face. He was grinning widely while holding the straw of a Bloody Mary to her lips, because it was always fun to laugh at Britta’s self-inflicted misfortune.

Abed opened Twitter and uploaded the photo with the caption  **_Peak gay/lesbian solidarity._ ** He only hesitated a moment before pressing ‘Tweet’. 

Abed was lacing up his running shoes when his phone vibrated. He glanced at the lock screen, sighed heavily, and opened the text from his publicist.

**Frankie:** I hope your morning jog takes you far from home, because I am about to hunt you down and strangle you. 

Abed shot a quick text to Britta --  _ Best friend emergency, please distract your girlfriend with feminine wiles while I get enough donuts for her to tolerate me again  _ \-- then he fled from his apartment. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to change up his route this morning. 

* * *

Abed took his time making his way to Britta and Frankie’s apartment, hoping that the extra three hours would help Frankie cool off. Abed didn’t even have a chance to get his key in the lock before Britta yanked the door open. She ripped the donuts from his grasp, and thrust a glass of Special Drink and a stim toy into his hands. 

“Just in case,” Britta said. She turned on her heel and retreated into the apartment, pausing only to reach into her pocket for a Lactaid to throw at Abed’s head. She picked up her mug of coffee and dramatically threw herself down on the end of the couch. 

Abed swallowed the pill with a gulp of Special Drink before kicking off his shoes at the door and following her inside. He settled with his back against the far arm of the couch; Britta lifted her ass far enough off the cushions for Abed to shove his toes beneath her thighs. 

Abed studied the stim toy Britta had handed him. It was one of his favorites, a plastic nut and bolt that was easy to spin and made little noise. “That bad, huh?”

“Did you get the Boston Creme?”

“Duh doy.”

“Then we might survive this.”

“Oh for the love of God, you two are acting like I’m going to kill your puppy.” Frankie had her laptop tucked under her arm and was balancing her iPad on top of a coffee mug. When Britta’s face brightened, Frankie turned to her and said, “We are  _ not _ getting a puppy. At least not until one of the cats dies.”

Abed raised an eyebrow at Britta, who shrugged. “It’s not heartless, just practical.”

“Not the first time you’ve had this conversation then,” he said.

Frankie snorted. “More like the twenty seventh.” She placed her laptop and iPad on the coffee table, then sank into their leather armchair. Abed waited while she got settled and organized herself, then reached into the bag of donuts and offered her a Boston Creme. She glared at him, but accepted the donut.

“Now, to the matter at hand,” Frankie said. “Congratulations, you are officially a gay icon.” 

“Nice,” Abed said, exchanging a fist bump with Britta. Frankie rolled her eyes, then turned the iPad so that Abed could read the screen. 

**_Director Abed Nadir Confirms Homosexuality Rumors in Viral Tweet!_ **

“There were homosexuality rumors?” Abed asked. 

Britta made an “I-Don’t-Know” noise. “Don’t all celebrities have those?”

“There were a few floating around on some fringe blogs, mostly conservative trolls who were upset that your films featured women, characters of color, and members of the LGTBQ community,” Frankie said. “Nothing worth putting out a statement over.”

“But this is?”

“Abed, you just came out of the closet in a spectacularly hilarious way. People are going to have questions,” Britta said. She looked at Frankie for confirmation, who gave her a gentle smile. 

“But I was never in the closet,” Abed protested. He glanced at Britta. “By the way, did you like the picture I chose?”

“I’m having it framed once this dies down,” she whispered back. 

“You guys are the worst,” Frankie said, without any real malice. “And Abed, you know I’m not upset that you came out, right? It’s never been my goal to make you hide who you are for public image.”

“I know,” Abed said. “I just didn’t know I was hiding, or that who I date contributed to my public image.”

“Unfortunately, it does. My concern is that you didn’t think about the fact that your sexuality is now going to be a big part of your role in society. Are you ready for that?”

Abed took a long sip from his mug. Britta made the  _ best _ Special Drink. “Can you explain more?”

Frankie nodded. “So you know how tabloids refer to you as ‘sci-fi director Abed Nadir?’ Now you will be ‘gay director Abed Nadir.’ You’re going to have to field questions about your identity, about coming out, how being gay informs your work. Some people are going to place you on a pedestal as a testament to what queer people of color can achieve, while others are going to use it as an excuse to vilify you and your work.”

Abed looked between her and Britta. “And that’s different from how the press treats me now?”

“It will be different,” Frankie confirmed.

“More intense, I think,” Britta said.

“I guess I didn’t think about that.”

Britta snorted. “Were you thinking at all?”

“Not really. It was 7:53 AM, I can’t be expected to have rational thoughts that early.”

Britta said, “That’s fair, Frankie shouldn’t have woken you up,” just as Frankie replied, “Then don’t engage with the public until you have your head on straight.” 

“You both make good points,” Abed said. “Frankie, sorry I Tweeted that without fully thinking. You’re right that it will probably change some things. But that’s what I have you for, right?”

Frankie smiled, and Abed was pleased to see that it seemed genuine. “That’s what you have me for.” She cleared her throat and broke the moment. “Also, you should apologize to Britta for outing her.”

“I’m the bartender at one of the more well-known queer bars in L.A., I think that ship has sailed,” Britta said. “Also, I’d rather Twitter knows I’m a lesbian, instead of making the misogynist assumption that I’m sleeping with someone to get ahead.” She took a deep breath, clearly about to rant about the patriarchy. Abed nudged her with his toes, and she sighed before continuing, “Besides, years of being friends with Abed has taught me to expect the ridiculous and unexpected. Which is weird for someone who loves structures and schedules as much as he does.”

“It’s true,” Abed said. “I make things weird.”

Britta wrapped her hand around his ankle and squeezed it lightly. “That’s why I love you, dude.” 

“Anyways,” Frankie said, “since your dating life unfortunately now falls under my responsibilities as your publicist I gotta ask -- are you seeing anyone?”

“You know that I’m not, I would have told Britta.”

“I don’t tell Frankie everything you tell me,” Britta said, a hint of betrayal in her voice. 

Abed shrugged. “You tell her most things, though. I’m not mad, it’s really convenient actually. I don’t have to worry about leaving Frankie out of the loop by accident.” 

“It’s a pretty good system,” Frankie said. “I know it’s not for a few weeks, but do you have a date for the studio party?” 

Abed wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to go to that?”

“Yes, you  _ have  _ to go!” Frankie took a deep breath, stuffed half of the Boston Creme in her mouth, and closed her eyes while she chewed. Abed, who couldn’t chew food for longer than ten seconds before he hated the texture against his teeth, thought it took her an absurdly long time to swallow. It was possible she was savoring it, but it seemed more likely that she was trying to avoid smothering him to death with one of their decorative pillows. 

He spun the plastic nut and bolt.

Finally Frankie opened her eyes and smiled at Abed. “Yes, Abed, you have to go to the giant party thrown by the person who financed your last three films. There’s going to be all kinds of people there, not just people in the film industry.”

“Meaning that it’s a good opportunity for me to show I’m not a recluse and am part of the Hollywood elite?”

“No,” Frankie started.

“Yes,” Britta finished. 

Frankie continued, “It’s a networking opportunity, Abed. There are also going to be a lot of eyes on you after your announcement today. So bringing a date to this giant party could be good for your public image.”

Abed turned to Britta. “Want to go to a really fancy party?”

“Not Britta!” 

“Then I don’t have anyone to take,” Abed said. “If I don’t have a date, I probably can’t go.” 

“The party is in seven weeks,” Frankie said. Her smile had a slightly manic edge to it that made Abed begin to fiddle with the stim toy again. “Plenty of time to meet someone.”

“How?”

“Go to a bar, the beach, the deli. Hell, there’s about a million different apps for that!”

“You want me to bring someone I’m casually dating to a party where they’re definitely going to get papped?”

“Babe,” Britta began, her eyes fixed on Frankie.

“Fellow associate,” Frankie hissed, glaring at her girlfriend.

Britta held her hands up in surrender. “Sorry, work event. Ms. Francesca Dart, ma’am, permission to speak, ma’am.”

“What, Britta?”

“I was just going to say, that sounds like a really big event to bring a new boyfriend to,” Britta said. “Would you have wanted our second date to be at some mansion with every paparazzo in L.A. trying to snap a pic of us?”

Frankie paused, chewed her lip. “I guess not.” She sighed. “Fine. If you don’t fall ass over tea kettle for someone in time for the party, Britta can be your backup date.”

Britta did an awkward celebratory dance that fell somewhere between The Wave and The Robot. 

“I still think you should try to meet someone,” Frankie said. “Are you sure you want  _ that _ on the dancefloor?”

“She’s got the best moves this side of the Mississippi,” Abed said with a small smile. When Britta’s dance morphed into The Shopping Cart, he turned to Frankie and said seriously, “You mentioned apps for meeting people?”

* * *

Abed had no idea where to start with dating apps. 

He considered downloading Tinder or Grindr, but didn’t like the idea of everyone within a five mile radius being able to see his profile. The OKCupid color scheme gave him a tension headache within two minutes of scrolling, and eHarmony seemed too old-fashioned for what he was looking for. He browsed through the app store before clicking on  _ Discretion _ .

“Discreet dates for the discerning gentle(wo)man,” Abed read aloud. He wasn’t sure if he fell into the category of discerning gentlemen, but he appreciated the heavy-handed attempt at gender equality. At any rate, the application boasted an algorithm to sort dates into complementary categories, which seemed more his speed than Tinder’s random swiping.

The first step was choosing a username. Abed toyed with the idea of referencing one of his movies, but even using one of the more obscure ones seemed vaguely narcissistic. He settled on “9th-Inspector” and then proceeded to the questionnaire. 

The questions started simply enough, and Abed answered them quickly (I am a man seeking a man, I am 34 years old, I am willing to find dates within a 30 mile radius). He raised his eyebrow a little at the question, “Are you looking to supplement your income, or share what you have with a special someone?”, but chose the second option and moved on. The questions got more confusing from there -- why did a dating app need to know his net worth? Did it matter how much he was willing to spend on dates each week? 

(Abed had been out of the dating game for awhile, but he was still rather shocked to see that some people were apparently spending $10k a week on their partners.)

Finally he filled out his “About Me,” his interests, his occupation. There was room for five separate photos, but in the end he decided to only add one. It was Britta’s favorite photo of him from his birthday. A beer bottle dangled loosely from his fingertips, his nose crinkled slightly as he laughed at something Britta was saying behind the camera. 

He clicked “complete profile,'' and was brought to a stark introduction screen.   
  


_ Welcome to Discretion. Please note that no payment is done through the app; we are simply an introduction platform. Click next to see who is available in your area. The ball is in your court -- if anyone catches your eye, be sure to message them! Potential dates cannot reach out to you first. _

“Why can’t they reach out to me?” Abed mumbled to himself. He shifted in his seat. What kind of app didn’t allow all the participants to message each other? Better yet, what had he said in his questionnaire that made it seem like he was the one who should be initiating contact? Setting up a dating profile was already far outside his comfort zone, and he wasn’t sure if he was up for being the instigator in every interaction. Plenty of guys liked Abed; he was just used to them pursuing him.

He clicked  _ I understand _ , and was taken to the main page. 

The usernames for the men in his area were… interesting. Seriously lacking in creativity, but interesting. 

Abed glanced at profile after profile of lithe shirtless men --  _ SpoiledTwink, HollywoodTwink, HollywoodHunk, PowerTwink1, SluttyBottom420, SluttyBottom69. _ He kept scrolling and scrolling. Christ, how many shirtless twinks were there in L.A.? It wasn’t that he had anything  _ against _ shirtless twinks; it just seemed that none of them shared any of his interests. 

There was one profile that stood out from the rest. Abed hesitated for a moment before clicking on  _ KickPuncher89.  _

“Just got home from several years of traveling abroad with my best friend. Found myself, but lost all of my money. On this app to have a good time and hopefully get a little spoiled ;)”

_ KickPuncher89 _ ’s first picture was the obligatory shirtless photo, but it still had a different vibe than the other profiles. Rather than staring dramatically into the camera lens, his gaze was fixed somewhere off-screen. He had a wide smile on his face, clapping his hands as if he were reacting to a joke. Abed couldn’t help but stare -- the picture seemed to capture genuine  _ joy _ . 

Abed continued to swipe through the photos. The second picture showed the man in a crisp tuxedo, taking a dainty sip from a glass of champagne. Abed paused at the next photo, which  _ may _ have shown the man in a homemade Reggie cosplay; it was hard to tell given the small size of his phone screen. There were several more photos in various exotic locales, and one of the man laughing as he offered a banana to a monkey perched on his shoulder. But Abed kept swiping back to that third photo.

For the past two Halloweens, Abed had considered going to Britta’s outrageous party as the Inspector, only to change at the last minute. It never felt right to go as the Inspector if he didn’t have a Reggie at his side. 

Staring at the photo of  _ KickPuncher89 _ , Abed wondered if he would be able to wear the costume this year.

Abed shook his head and clicked out of the photos. He was being ridiculous.

He scrolled through the profile, taking note of the age (28), occupation (I work with my hands ;) ), and listed interests (B-list horror movies, football, travel, video games, butt stuff, comics). He paused at the bottom of the page, finger hovering over the “Message Me!” button.

Abed took a deep breath, pressed the button.

**9th-Inspector:** _ I’ve been staring at your third picture for like 15 minutes trying to figure out if it’s cosplay, so I figured I may as well just save myself some time and ask. _

Abed hit send, then slid his phone into his back pocket. He rotated his spinner ring twice before standing up, wondering why his intestines were tying themselves in knots. He was trying to remember if he had used the lactose-free milk that morning when his phone began to vibrate.

**KickPuncher89:** _ You didn’t ask me anything, but I think I can answer your not-question with another question. _

**KickPuncher89:** _Don’t you mean you may as well save yourself some…_ ** _space_** _?_

**Author's Note:**

> This is un-betaed but dedicated to my darling Cherie, who yelled about this AU with me for weeks. Sending all my love to the ass-eating server, I miss you hooligans and will join you soon!


End file.
